


One Night to be Confused

by DragQueenCas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Angst, Bottom Castiel, Castiel in Panties, M/M, Minor Injuries, Religion, Scars, Top Dean, based on fanart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 00:35:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2089014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragQueenCas/pseuds/DragQueenCas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas spends one of many nights in Dean's cabin. But what happens is not something he's used to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night to be Confused

Cas waited patiently for Dean, kneeling on the dusty rug of the hunter’s cabin. His cock was hard and peeking out of the black panties that now sat loose at his thin hips, just like Dean asked. He fiddled with a frayed edge of his garter before smoothing his palm over his stocking clad thigh. The gap between them was getting wider. Cas sighed sadly as he moved his hand to his chest, leaving a hot trail of goose bumps behind. His drug-induced-trembling fingers bumped over his ribs, mapping his emaciated form and remembering each scar.

The one striping his side was from Dean, where he’d tied the rope a little too tight and Cas hadn’t cared enough to stop him. His fingers traipsed up to his neck, where two long scars swiped across his throat. Those had been from a Wendigo. He had used the last of his grace to heal that wound.

Cas fingered the cross around his wrist. It had been a long time since he’d had anything to do with his faith, and he wondered why he still had the beads coiled around his wrist. God had abandoned them a long time ago. He’d made sure that was perfectly clear.

Cas stopped his careful caress at the sound of the cabin door creaking open and boots clumping on the floorboards. The gentle clicking of beads told him that Dean had entered the room, but he kept his eyes forward. The feet in question stepped slowly but heavily up to Castiel, stopping behind him, and a careful, calloused hand fell to the fallen angel’s hair.

The dark mop of once expertly styled bed-hair was now frazzled, a mess that paralleled the life of danger he and all the others led. Thick, sure fingers curled into the strands at the base of Cas’ skull and tugged gently.

People had a lot to say about Dean Winchester, but they didn’t know him like this. It was the closest he would ever get to the man he was before all this; before Detroit. And Cas would bed the hunter for the rest of his now-mortal life if it meant Dean would turn into that man, if only for a few hours.

Dean was kneeling behind Cas now, his knees parted to frame Cas’ hips and ankles, which were tucked beneath his rump. His hands slowly smoothed down Cas’ sides, lingering on the scar he had inflicted, and pressing his lips to another that marked his shoulder blade.

Cas bit his tongue, literally, not wanting to make a sound and interrupt the intimacy of Dean exploring the thin body in his arms. But when Dean’s hands reached Cas’ thighs, one straying to gently tap the tip of his leaking cock, Cas gasped, breath catching in his throat.

“Cas,” Dean whispered. “You’re beautiful.” Cas frowned at the words, feeling torn between “elated” and “not deserving”. He let Dean say whatever he wanted to in bed, knowing that his soul was practically flayed open every time Cas spent the night. It was the hunter’s way of talking to Cas, telling him his feelings. Otherwise, he’d just go and put himself in danger. Again.

But he couldn’t hold his tongue this time. “I’m not,” he all but whispered. As soon as the words left his mouth, he hoped Dean hadn’t heard them. No such luck. The hunter brought his hand to Cas’ jaw, turning the fallen angel’s neck to finally look into his electric blue eyes. His gaze beneath his frown was sorrowful, almost hurt, and Cas whimpered.

“Tonight,” the hunter breathed against Cas’ jaw, “I’m going to show you how beautiful you are.” Cas melted. He had done a great variety of things in bed with Dean, but he had never heard those words. They were a warning, a promise. If he wanted to stop, now was the time to say it. Both men knew how dangerous it was to tangle emotions and sex in this place.

Sex was like hunting; a primal instinct, necessary to gain release to survive. Adding emotions into the mix was nigh on a death wish. When they first started, Dean had laid out the rules. A lot of them had been broken, but one remained for a very long time: no emotions. They had broken that rule last. Now, they regularly had emotion charged, angry, mind-numbing sex, where Cas would submit to everything Dean wanted. Most of the time, it was because he was too drug-fucked to care, but other times, it was because Dean needed something to take his frustration out on. Cas was there.

Tonight was different. There was something almost gentle in Dean’s voice, in his eyes. Instinct told Cas to be wary, that this wasn’t his Dean. But he knew this gentility. As rare as it was, he was familiar with it. That’s what made him nod his agreement.

Dean pressed his lips gently to Castiel’s, starting chaste and then swiping his tongue over the seam of Cas’ mouth. The fallen angel let the hunter gain entry and they both licked into each other’s mouths hungrily. Dean wrapped an arm around Cas’ middle and hoisted him up when he stood. Castiel spun in Dean’s arms so they were facing each other and pushed his hips to the hunter’s. Cas let out a soft moan when he felt Dean’s denim-clad cock rub against his own exposed member.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Cas growled, and he started tugging at the fabric. Dean only grunted in agreement and helped him. Once the hunter was naked, he coiled his arms around Cas and hauled him up by his butt cheeks to wrap around his torso. Dean carried the man to the bed, placing him down gently on the worn bedcovers, before stepping back. His tired, green eyes raked over the mortal sprawled across the mattress, appreciative gaze admiring every bump and crevice of Castiel’s body.

“So beautiful,” was all he uttered before crawling onto the now-mortal. The pair were a mess of hot lips, hotter breaths, tangled hair and tangled limbs. Gentle moans and whimpers littered the air as Dean pried Castiel open, searching fingers expertly crooked, spreading the small amount of lube he'd collected on a supply run.

Cas’ panties were pulled to the side, but it wasn’t enough for Dean. The hunter growled and tore at the garments, ripping the black fabric and pulling it away. Cas cried out at the display of force and then whimpered as Dean’s mouth closed around the hollow of his throat, sucking a hickey to rival all hickeys into the tender skin.  
  
“Dean,” Cas huffed out, earning a groan from the Winchester. “Dean, I’m ready. C’mon, please fuck me, baby. I’m ready.” Dean responded by scraping his teeth along Castiel’s jaw and pulling his fingers out.

“You sure?” he asked seriously, eyes level with Cas’ and hips poised above the man. When all Cas did was nod frantically, Dean growled and gripped the man’s jaw. “I need you to tell me, Cas. Say the word, dammit.”

Cas was a fucking puddle. This was the first time he’d explicitly asked. It was obvious from their previous encounters that Cas was more than okay with what they were doing, but the ache in his chest told Cas that he secretly appreciated the verbal question.

“Yes, Dean,” the former angel breathed.

Dean pushed in. Cas cried out.

Dean rested his forehead against Castiel’s collarbone and waited for the man to adjust around him. When Cas made a small, encouraging sound, Dean pulled almost all the way out, and then slammed back in.

The next half hour saw the air charged with electric emotion. The stench of sweat and sex could surely be smelt all through the camp. Cas didn’t seem to care. He clung to Dean like a lifeline. And wasn’t that just the perfect analogy for them.

Dean’s arms were circled around Cas, pressing their bodies so close, it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. Dean was jack hammering against Cas’ prostate, and that, coupled with the raw feelings of love and safety he felt were enough to make him come untouched.

Cas’ fingernails scraped up Dean’s back as he came. He fell back; limp, once the last spurt left him. Dean only lasted a handful more thrusts before crying out and spilling inside his angel. The men lay sated, Dean draped over Cas and still inside him. They shifted eventually; lying on their sides, facing each other with their arms full of hot skin.

Dean pressed a warm, loving kiss to Cas’ forehead and settled down to sleep. Cas was dumbfounded. Dean always fucked him and left. He wasn’t sure whether to feel happy or scared. He eventually decided that he would accept this as a rare slip up on Dean’s behalf, and curled against the man.

His hunter wasn’t leaving tonight.

Maybe there was a God.

**Author's Note:**

> Title based on José Gonzalez - Heartbeats (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ruQQ5UvICvA)
> 
> Based on an artwork by brightfallenstars on tumbr (http://brightfallenstars.tumblr.com/post/41212813495)
> 
> This is something I wrote a while ago and I've decided I need to share it. Thanks for reading, please leave a comment and tell me how I did! <3


End file.
